


we can make the rules, maybe we can break 'em too

by LugianBeforeSwine



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, College AU, Fluff, Humor, M/M, aka the holy trinity, to say that this fic got away from me would be the understatement of the millennium, when your hot TA is the only reason you attend class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LugianBeforeSwine/pseuds/LugianBeforeSwine
Summary: Makoto’s eyelids felt dangerously heavy as he watched his TA write a problem on the whiteboard. His handwriting was crisp and neat, much like the man himself. Always showing up impeccably dressed despite the early hour of the day, all clean, pressed button-up and slim-fit pants and his hair artfully tousled. Makoto felt his teeth grind together and made a conscious effort to unlock his jaw. What right did he have to be so put-together and engaging and…stuff? He was probably only three or four years older than Makoto himself, and Makoto both looked and felt like a walking trashbag compared to him.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 10
Kudos: 216





	we can make the rules, maybe we can break 'em too

“So tell me if I’ve got this right. You already know everything that’s being taught in your math class.”

“Yeah.”

“And your math class is at 8am.”

“Yes…”

“And every time you come home from your math class, you complain about how tired you are and how much it sucks that you had to get up for your 8am math class.”

“I mean, I don’t complain _every_ time—”

“So why,” Abbie spoke over him, “are you still going?” Before Makoto could get a word out, she added, “And don’t try to tell me it’s because it’s wrong to skip class. I have seen you skip class. You once skipped class because, and I quote, ‘These frozen waffles expire _today_ , Abbie, I don’t have time to go to class when I have 32 waffles to eat,’ end quote.”

“That was one time!” Makoto exclaimed, indignant.

Abbie’s only response was to lift her eyebrows and continue to stare at him.

“Look, I don’t know why I keep going, okay? Maybe one day we’ll cover something that I don’t already know.”

“You have the syllabus, dumbass. You know exactly what topics will be covered and when.”

Makoto flinched, shoulders hunching up defensively. “Whatever. Why do you even care so much, anyway?”

Abbie took a long sip of her coffee, drawing her knees up to her chest in her chair at their tiny kitchen table. “I’m trying to help you,” she said at last.

“How is this helping me?” Makoto cried.

Abbie sighed. “Men really are hopeless.” She turned to her phone, which Makoto knew from experience meant that their conversation was effectively over. Which left him more confused than ever.

“If you care so much about helping me, you could just tell me what you’re getting at instead of making it a riddle,” he muttered as he headed toward his bedroom. He caught sight of Abbie’s raised middle finger in his peripheral vision and turned to stick his tongue out at her. She did not react.

-

“So, if we know that, in this instance, _x_ represents the length of the fence…”

Makoto could barely keep his eyes open. Loath as he was to admit it, Abbie was on to something. There had to be a reason he continued to submit himself to this agony. It was bad enough that he already knew everything the professor lectured on, but now here he was in recitation, which was essentially a recap of the lecture, hearing everything that he already understood repeated ad infinitum. 

Elbow on the table, he leaned his head into his hand and idly ran his pen across the notebook page in front of him, producing crooked lines and nonsense shapes. His TA, a grad student, had a voice that was somehow both energetic and calming, and eyes that sparkled as he spoke, like teaching basic algebra to a room full of half-asleep 20-somethings was his ultimate passion.

Makoto’s eyelids felt dangerously heavy as he watched his TA write a problem on the whiteboard. His handwriting was crisp and neat, much like the man himself. Always showing up impeccably dressed despite the early hour of the day, all clean, pressed button-up and slim-fit pants and his hair artfully tousled. Makoto felt his teeth grind together and made a conscious effort to unlock his jaw. What right did he have to be so put-together and engaging and…stuff? He was probably only three or four years older than Makoto himself, and Makoto both looked and felt like a walking trashbag compared to him.

And the worst part, Makoto thought, feeling his eyes close briefly, was his stupid fucking name. _Laurent_. Could there be a more pretentious name for someone to have? _Hon hon hon, it’s me, Laurent_ , Makoto thought, barely repressing a giggle at the stupid rhyme. Honestly, the nerve of him. _Oh hi, Makoto, it’s your insufferable TA, Laurent. I’m all tall and handsome with a nice voice and nice clothes and I don’t look like I spent the night in a Dumpster when I have to wake up before dawn. I’m so proud of you for doing so well in this class, it’s amazing how thoroughly you know the material, if you wanted to bump your grade up a little bit, though, I could offer you some extra credit. Look into my gorgeous eyes, Makoto, and tell me if you want me to assign you extra credit. You do, huh? Come here. Up on the desk, just like that. Perfect. You’re perfect, Makoto—_

“Makoto?”

“I DON’T NEED EXTRA CREDIT!” Makoto screamed, jumping upright with such force he nearly knocked the table over. Laurent was standing next to him, looking concerned, and Makoto quickly scanned the classroom, face burning, to find that they were the only two people there.

“What—are you okay?” Laurent asked, leaning in a little closer.

Makoto could not handle this. “I—fu—agh!” he cried, scrambling to gather up his belongings and shoving roughly past his TA. As he approached the classroom door, he opened his mouth to say something else, perhaps an apology for falling asleep in class and accidentally dreaming the setup to something highly inappropriate happening between them, but all that came out of his mouth was another pained, “Agh!”

He fled, but not before he saw a small shift in Laurent’s expression. He didn’t have the brainpower to figure out what it was, however, so he tore out of the building and down the street towards his apartment.

-

“FUCK!” Makoto exclaimed as he flung the door open with such force that it bounced off the wall and nearly clipped him on the ass.

Abbie looked up from where she was sprawled on their couch, textbook open in her lap, and raised one eyebrow at him. “I take it that means you figured it out?” she asked.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me, Abbie?” he whined, sliding miserably to the floor and hugging his knees.

She shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “This was way more fun.”

“Ugh.” Makoto fell to his side, still grasping his knees. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“How should I know?” Abbie replied, reaching out with her bare foot to poke him in the side. “This is where my helpful advice ends, and your daring and charisma begin.”

Makoto huffed out a sound between a laugh and a groan, finally getting up and slouching into a chair. He was silent for a minute, then he sighed. “If—and this is a big if,” he began, “I do…ask him out or whatever,” he said, all the words crunched up together, “and he says no, I am never going to be able to show my face in that class again.”

Abbie closed her textbook, stretching her arms above her head. “Well, it’s a good thing you already know the material, then, huh?”

-

Recitation had morphed from an uninteresting, mild inconvenience to what Makoto was sure classified as cruel and unusual punishment. Nothing had really changed, except that Makoto was now hyper-aware of everything his TA did, and highly, uncomfortably cognizant of what he had imagined occurring between them on the desk at the front of the room. Also, Laurent kept making _eye contact_ with him, which invariably caused Makoto’s cheeks to flush pink.

After a few weeks of this torture, during which time Makoto had always been one of the first students out the door after class, he steeled himself one morning and stayed seated at his table while the rest of his classmates filed out the door.

He was staring hard at a dent in the cheap laminate when he heard Laurent’s voice from the front of the room. “Makoto? Are you alright?”

Makoto took a deep breath, standing up and walking towards the stupidly attractive man of his literal dreams, who was watching his approach with a small smile and a curious expression. Finally, he paused in front of the desk that separated them, squaring his shoulders and meeting Laurent’s gaze head-on. “Umm, so,” he began, then backtracked, “I mean, shit, that’s not—okay, look, I’m sorry if this is weird or whatever but...I…basically, I think you’re really hot, and—” Makoto clapped a hand over his mouth in horror as Laurent laughed, looking unfairly delighted.

“Well, thank you,” he said graciously, and if Makoto wasn’t horribly mistaken, Laurent’s cheeks were flushed as well. The sight of this gave him the courage to continue, and he forced out, “Would you...want to go on a date with me?”

Laurent grinned at him—god, he really was unfairly handsome—and replied, “I would love to.”

-

_Several months later_

“You know,” Laurent said, as he and Makoto made their way back to his classroom to pick up some exams in need of grading, “I’ve often wondered what exactly you were thinking about that day you fell asleep. You yelled something about extra credit?”

Makoto tripped over air and Laurent steadied him, squeezing his hand. “Oh, so it was naughty, huh?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Shut up,” Makoto muttered hotly as they entered the building.

“Well,” Laurent said breezily as he unlocked the door to the classroom, “whenever you’re comfortable telling me, I’m eager to listen.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Makoto said. The lock clicked shut behind them, Laurent turned on the lights, and Makoto launched himself at his unsuspecting boyfriend, who caught him with a grunt as he collided with his chest.

“Is this your way of saying you’re comfortable right now?” Laurent asked, half-teasing, half-distracted by Makoto nosing his way along his jawline.

“It is,” Makoto replied, face pressed to the side of Laurent’s neck. Laurent let out an involuntary huff of air as Makoto bit him lightly, then gently licked over the area. His hands tightened around Makoto’s waist as Makoto pulled the collar of his t-shirt down, biting and licking his way to his collarbone.

“You know,” Laurent said, struggling to keep his voice steady as the hand that wasn’t at his collar slid up the back of his shirt, “I’m not the only one who has a key to this room.”

Makoto hummed against his skin, leaving one last cheeky bite in his wake before looking back up at Laurent’s flushed face. “The threat of unintentional exhibitionism wasn’t part of the original fantasy, but I’m okay with it if you are.”

“Huh,” Laurent said, eyes shining, one hand coming up to bury itself in Makoto’s hair, “I swear you used to be so innocent.”

“Whose fault is it that that’s no longer the case?”

“I am more than happy to take credit for that,” Laurent replied, using his grip on Makoto’s hair to pull him into a kiss. As Makoto’s lips parted beneath his own, the hand that had been stroking his back moved lower, toying with his waistband. In response, Laurent bit the other man’s lower lip, and Makoto sighed against his mouth, eyes closed as Laurent squeezed his waist, pressing them even closer together. As they licked into each other’s mouths, Makoto shifted his hips, and Laurent inhaled sharply through his nose, digging his fingers deeper into Makoto’s hair.

Makoto broke the kiss and laughed softly as Laurent tried to follow his mouth. He stepped back out of Laurent’s hold but reached for his hand, and pulled him quickly to the desk at the front of the room.

“Oh,” Laurent commented dryly, “the desk, huh? Class must have been very difficult for you.” He was trying to act smug, Makoto knew, but the effect was ruined a little by his reddened lips and quick breaths. Makoto leaned up and kissed him again, briefly, before replying, “Yeah, it was.” He hopped up on the desk, legs dangling over the side, and Laurent descended on him immediately, hands gripping Makoto’s thighs as he leaned into his space. “I don’t know if it was better or worse before we—mmm,” Laurent flicked open the button of his jeans, his mouth busy licking Makoto’s neck, “—before we started dating.”

“Fortunate that you no longer have to endure such torture,” Laurent murmured, kissing up Makoto’s neck until their lips met again. Makoto reached up to grip Laurent’s hair, but the other man caught his hands, setting them gently but purposefully on the desk by Makoto’s sides. “No touching, my dear.”

Makoto was slightly horrified at the pitchy whine that escaped his mouth at that. “That wasn’t part of my fantasy,” he complained, hands nevertheless dutifully grasping the edge of the desk.

One of Laurent’s own hands cupped Makoto’s cheek while the other made quick work of his zipper, and with a sweet smile, he leaned down to press his lips to Makoto’s as he stroked him gently through his boxers.

Makoto hissed in a breath and Laurent breathed into the space between them, “You’re not the only one who dreamed up fantasies in this room.”

“Fuck,” Makoto said eloquently. His head tipped back seemingly without any input from his brain, and Laurent pressed soft kisses to the underside of his jaw, releasing his face in order to pull Makoto’s waistband down with both hands. Makoto squirmed on the desk, eyes closed, breathing hard through his nose as the cold laminate made contact with his now-bare ass. He felt his pants pool around his ankles as Laurent gripped his thigh with one hand and stroked him slowly with the other. Makoto’s fingers squeezed the edge of the desk until he was sure his knuckles were white with the strain of holding on. Laurent’s mouth suddenly disappeared from his neck, and Makoto opened his eyes and tilted his head forward just in time to see his boyfriend, who was now kneeling between his legs, flick his tongue over the head of his cock, his eyes trained on Makoto’s face.

“God _dammit_ , Laurent,” he hissed, wishing he could dig his nails into the other man’s shoulders.

Laurent smiled sweetly at him, then licked a long stripe from base to tip, making Makoto’s hips jump. “This not what you had in mind?” he asked cheekily.

“No—I mean, yes, but—ugh, will you just—”

“With pleasure,” Laurent said softly. He swirled his tongue around the head before sucking it into his mouth, one hand stroking the base while the other skimmed up and down Makoto’s side. He bobbed his head, taking him deeper each time, and lifted his eyes briefly to see Makoto gritting his teeth, knuckles white with the effort not to touch. Makoto groaned as Laurent took him fully, nose brushing his pelvis, and as Laurent pulled off slowly, sucking as he reached the tip, he reached to unzip his own fly, hardly aware that he was doing so.

Somehow, though, Makoto noticed; he lifted one trembling hand to point at Laurent’s own, and muttered, “No.”

“No?” Laurent asked. He licked the precome that had begun dripping from the other man, and Makoto shuddered, but smiled as he choked out in an imitation of Laurent’s voice, “No touching, my dear.”

Laurent’s hand stilled. “I suppose it’s only fair,” he murmured, and swallowed Makoto down once more. The other man let out a high-pitched gasp that he was sure to be embarrassed about later, and his free hand flailed momentarily before once again scrabbling for purchase on the desk. As Laurent went back to eagerly licking and sucking him, Makoto began to get lost in the sensations, feeling his head go fuzzy and his stomach flutter. He crashed back to the immediate present as Laurent’s hand gripped his, unclenching his fingers and guiding his hand back to settle in his hair. Makoto met his gaze, eyes wild and searching, and Laurent blinked up at him, humming his approval around Makoto’s cock.

“Shit,” Makoto ground out, and, gripping the back of Laurent’s head, he thrust into his perfect mouth until he felt the telltale tightening just behind his balls. “Laurent—” he tried to warn him, releasing his hold on the other man’s hair, but Laurent met his eyes and sucked deliberately, swallowing as Makoto pulsed into his mouth with a sharp cry a few seconds later. His own cock twitched, straining against the front of his jeans, and as Makoto came down from his high, slack-jawed and hazy, Laurent stood and pressed his lips to Makoto’s, licking into his mouth until Makoto responded in kind.

Then a hand grasped the front of his pants and Laurent moaned into Makoto’s mouth as nimble fingers made quick work of his fly, diving under his waistband and stroking firmly, insistent despite the awkward angle.

Makoto pulled away from their kiss, mouthing wetly at Laurent’s neck as his hand worked him faster. Laurent groaned, tipping his head forward and breathing deeply into Makoto’s hair. “Makoto, I’m so close—”

“I know,” Makoto murmured against his neck, hand never slowing. “It’s okay. Come for me, babe.”

With a hoarse cry that he buried in Makoto’s hair, Laurent obeyed, thrusting helplessly into the other man’s fist as he emptied onto both their chests.

They sank to the floor in a boneless heap, Makoto still breathing into Laurent’s neck as the other man began to recover his senses. He wrapped his arms around Makoto’s back, squeezing tight, and Makoto lifted his head, meeting Laurent’s slightly dazed, very pleased smile with one of his own.

“Holy shit,” Makoto breathed. “That was so fucking hot.”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Laurent replied. He shifted, grimacing at the stickiness coating his shirt. “Shirts off next time, though, I think.”

Makoto huffed a laugh, standing up and reaching down to haul Laurent to his feet. “Let’s go get cleaned up, shall we?”

-

“So,” Laurent asked casually as they walked back to Makoto’s apartment afterwards, cleaned up the best they could and practically radiating bliss, “was it as good as you’d hoped it would be?”

Makoto squeezed his hand, shooting him a cheeky glance. “Was it as good as _you’d_ hoped it would be?”

Laurent laughed, unable to stop himself from leaning over and kissing the smirk off his boyfriend’s face. “Much better, as a matter of fact.”

Makoto grinned at him. “I’m inclined to agree.”

**Author's Note:**

> in the past 36 hours, i have 1) watched all of great pretender, 2) decided i wanted to try writing something explicit, and 3) produced this hot mess of a fanfic. god i love this dumb show.
> 
> title is from 'take that' by cruisr.


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